


Where Do You Run When Everyone's Betrayed You?

by prowlstwinkass



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, apparently by unresolved tension I mean very poorly resolved tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-14 19:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlstwinkass/pseuds/prowlstwinkass
Summary: Prowl was betrayed by the very mech and cause he'd given his all to function for.Bruised and beaten, and with no one else to turn to, Prowl runs to the only mecha he trusts would help him.(sort-of convoluted AU-ness, explained inside)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this fic, which will be very short because I'm bad at long plots (and by very short I mean there's only one more chapter, probably), is in an AU where everything in IDW canon happened unless it didn't. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker ran off at some point during the war to become bounty-hunter smuggler guys, Cybertron was never actually destroyed and deserted during the war, the factions just kind of left, and the events towards the end of the Combiner Wars series played out a little differently, as expanded more on in the other half of this very short fic.
> 
> So yeah, enjoy I guess.

"What do you want, Prowl?"

Prowl sat crosslegged on the floor of the ship's tiny bridge-deck, the socket of his missing optic stinging and the dents on his frame aching. The twins themselves knelt across from him, every piston taut with an ingrained combat readiness. Their optics, dark with caution, bored a hole through Prowl's helm.

"Protection." Prowl lifted his chin. "I _need_ protection."

Sunstreaker's helm tilted to the side. "From what?– from who?"

Prowl scoffed. "Do you even need to ask?" He gestured to his injuries. "You know who made these. And I have many other enemies besides. I no longer have the Constructicons beside me, and all my allies have deserted me. I need protection."

"Why would we help _you_?" Sideswipe leaned forward slightly, optics narrowing.

For the first time since Prowl had escaped the Prime's heavy servos, his doorwings fell. "I don't know." The red-crowned helm drooped. His single, icy blue optic flickered with fatigue, and something resembling hopelessness. "I have no credits or resources to offer. Optimus Prime has surely put a bounty on my helm by now. All I have is my frame, and you would undoubtedly deride me should I offer that."

The twins exchanged looks. "Well," Sideswipe said, "we may not want your valve, but free labor is hard to come by these days."

Sunstreaker continued his brother's tangent. "You can help us with our work. A three mecha team is always best, especially when you're looking to grab someone."

"Alright." Prowl laced his digits together in his lap. "I will help you. I will follow your orders, and fulfill the objectives you give me. In exchange, you will ensure that I remain alive and solely in your... possession." Prowl's optic flickered again. "I also suggest that you consider any advice I might give you concerning any of the missions you take on."

Sideswipe nodded. "Our agreement will only be dissolved if either you leave our care of your own volition, or if Sunny and I are both offline." Prowl was mildly surprised by the specificity of Sideswipe's words. Sometimes, Prowl forgot that the red twin had once been a merchant; he probably had some experience in writing up contracts.

"Agreed."

Again the horned helm inclined. "You want that in writing?"

"If you think it necessary."

"For the sake of your peace of mind, it is." Sideswipe stood with a grunt. "We'll have to get you fixed up at one of the cities, but you'll need a quick repaint so no one recognizes you. I'll go find a datapad. Sunny, you paint him, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure." The yellow warrior got to his pedes. Prowl followed suit, hissing faintly when his right hip twinged. Sunstreaker didn't react, but for a cursory look over the doorwinger's frame.

The twins' ship, named the Overturned Trust, was relatively small, but had enough space to carry about four or five mecha in a pinch. Prowl hadn't seen all of it, but he could guess that it had a maximum of two hab suites and one washrack. If they did indeed dabble in bounty-hunting during their mercenary work, the hold probably had some sort of jury-rigged holding cell.

Sunstreaker brought Prowl to one of the hab suites. It had two berths, both of which looked well-used. The twins' belongings were scattered about in a delicate display of organized chaos.

"It'll have to be a simple paint job." Sunstreaker gestured for Prowl to sit on the right-side berth. The black and white obliged. "It won't take long to plot a course and reach the closest city with a trustworthy medic, but it should be enough time to paint certain black parts, to break up your current paintjob." The yellow mech had squatted down before a storage cube, rummaging around within. "We only have red, yellow, and black, so pick one of the first two." Sunstreaker straightened, holding two paint cans containing the primary colors.

"Red."

"Okay." Sunstreaker returned the yellow can to the storage cube. "I'll just paint over. We can get you a thorough repaint once you're repaired, and we've bought the colors you want."

Prowl nodded. "Where will you be painting?"

"Forearms, doorwings, and patellae. The paints are all quick-dry, so it shouldn't take long." Sunstreaker sat down beside the smaller mech. "Hold out your right arm, please."

Prowl obliged, watching with an apathetic sort of interest as Sunstreaker, holding his servo to keep the arm raised, dipped his brush into the paint can and began sweeping it over the black armor at a moderate, even pace. Within two breems Prowl's arm was the exact same shade of red as Sideswipe.

Sideswipe came in just as Sunstreaker started on Prowl's left forearm. "Here, I wrote it up. The three of us all have to sign it."

Sunstreaker sat back, setting the paint brush on the can and taking the pad and stylus Sideswipe held out towards him. Sunstreaker scanned the contents of the pad, then scrawled his name glyph at the bottom, just beside Sideswipe's. Prowl took the pad offered to him and scrolled through the text. It was pretty much what they had agreed on before, just with a couple more statements to solidify it all. Before he could consider regretting his actions, Prowl signed it.

Sideswipe took the pad back and tossed it into subspace. "Well, I guess we'll never look at that thing again. I set a course to Polihex, we should be there in little under a joor." He flopped down on the other berth, staring across the room at Sunstreaker and Prowl with a bored expression on his face.

The doorwinger stared back until his vision unfocused and his thoughts wandered. A touch on his leg jolted him from his reverie, and Prowl gasped, his whole frame jerking minutely. Sunstreaker halted.

"I need to paint your patella. Could you put your leg in my lap?"

  
"Yes, alright." Prowl extended his left leg over Sunstreaker's lap and, after a moment, lay back on the berth, staring at the ceiling.

It felt strange. The painting of his forearm had been alright enough, but no one had touched Prowl's legs outside of a combat situation for... a good long time. There was a servo settled on his thigh, holding his leg steady as the brush smoothed a coat of paint over Prowl's knee plating. Far sooner than with his forearms, Sunstreaker tapped Prowl's thigh, indicating for him to change over to the other leg. Prowl obeyed, and the flow of strange, conflicting sensory data began anew.

"Okay," Sunstreaker said after several kliks, "I'll do your doorwings, back first."

  
Prowl sat up, turning his back to Sunstreaker and sitting cross-legged on the berth. He should have expected it, but nonetheless he couldn't suppress his gasp when the paintbrush first ran over his doorwing. The yellow mech paused.

"Sorry, I didn't dial down the sensors." Prowl's optic flickered slightly as he did just that.

"Right." After another moment Sunstreaker continued, testing Prowl's reaction to the touch before going on with as much surety as he had before.

Painting his doorwings took somewhat longer than Prowl's arms and knees, though not by much. Prowl flicked his wings as Sunstreaker packed away the paints. The new coat felt odd, since it was painted over the old, rather than stripping away the old paint and setting a fresh one. It would do for now, though.

"Not bad," Sideswipe commented. "Red isn't really your color, though." His gaze flicked to the red chevron on Prowl's helm. "At least, not as a primary or secondary color. Detail, yeah, but nothing more."

"Your input is noted." Prowl made to stand, but Sunstreaker halted him with a servo on his shoulder.

"Recharge for a while; we still have a couple groons until we reach Polihex."

Prowl lay back, turning onto his side to face the room. "Very well." Come to think of it, he did feel exceptionally tired. Prowl tucked his pedes a little closer and pulled his arms in close to his face, almost obstructing his view of the room.

The now black and red mech watched wearily as Sunstreaker sat down on his brother's berth, lying back with his pedes planted firmly on the floor. It didn't take long for Prowl's optic to dim, the light fading slowly as he drifted into the blissful darkness of recharge.

 

"Name?"

"Threnody."

The medic –the twins had called him Ambulon– cast Prowl a skeptical look. Prowl met it impassively.

"Hey," Sideswipe spread his servos, grinning wryly, "who says we can't give fake names, eh?"

Ambulon sighed, scrawling the name onto his datapad and gesturing for Prowl to sit on the medical berth, a request that the doorwinger mildly obliged. "Should I even ask who did this to you?" The medic asked as he ran a scanner over Prowl's body.

"An old friend."

"That's rough." Ambulon's gaze flicked over the scanner's readout. "You have a whole lot of dents, but no internal damage that your self-repair hasn't already patched up. You'll need a new optic, obviously, and your hip was wrenched, I'm guessing." Prowl nodded. "Well I can get you a new optic, but blue lenses are a little more expensive than red or yellow."

Prowl's doorwings drooped; he would have to have red optics. The thought triggered a wave of despair that halted when Sunstreaker spoke.

"Give him blue lenses. Fix all the superficial damage. His self-repair will fix the hip, yes?"

"Yes."

Sunstreaker nodded firmly. "Leave that, then. Just the optic and the dents."

Ambulon nodded slowly as he wrote that up in his datapad. He looked up at Prowl. "Would you rather be offline for the repairs?"

The doorwinger paused, looking from the medic to the twins. Sideswipe shrugged, and Sunstreaker tilted his helm noncommittally. "Sure. I could use the break."

The patchy medic snorted. "That's one way to think about it."

Prowl woke a joor later to the sight of Sideswipe handing Ambulon a credit chip.

"Thanks, Ambulon. C'mon Threnody, we're gonna go shopping." Sideswipe grabbed Prowl's wrist and tugged him out the door and down the street, with Sunstreaker following along behind, a looming and protective presence.

"Where are we going?" Prowl asked, glancing about warily. This area of Polihex wasn't the worst, but it certainly wasn't the best either. This was a sector that had a moderate amount of organized crime combined with fairly well-to-do residents– that is, ones that weren't 70% Syke addicts and common criminals.

"We're buying paints for you." Sideswipe halted before a modest storefront. "We usually get our paint here whenever we're in the city. Can never know when you need to paint some new patch plating."

The inside of the store was bright and clean. The clerk gave no sign he acknowledged their presence, but that didn't really matter. Sunstreaker walked down the aisles, gesturing for Prowl to follow with a flick of his wrist.

"What colors to you want?" He asked, optics scanning the shelves.

Prowl was at a loss; he'd never had any other paintjob than black and white. The thought of changing was, while not disturbing, certainly cause for anxiety. "I'm honestly not sure. What would you suggest?"

Sunstreaker paused, turning to look Prowl over with a considering optic. "Not red or yellow definitely, or any variation of the two. Blue, dark blue." The golden mech turned sharply, striding with purpose towards some destination unbeknownst to Prowl. "Dark blue... #181d6b or #151879." Sunstreaker pulled out a datapad that seemed to have some sort of art application. After a moment Sunstreaker held out the datapad, which bore two different shades of dark blue. Prowl chose the less vibrant one. "Okay, I can get that. There are silvers here, we can find one that isn't too sparkly or too dull."

Sideswipe leaned in to speak into Prowl's audial. "He gets really passionate about art."

"Getting a repaint is art?"

"Well, yeah." The two of them trekked after Sunstreaker as he wandered the store for the silvers. "Finding the right harmony between colors, making sure they compliment each other. Composition and all that slag. He likes drawing and painting, and this is kinda similar. Mostly it's just the colors."

"You seem to get the idea rather well."

The red mech snorted. "I just pick it up through proximity to him." Sideswipe jabbed a digit at his brother. "And I don't really understand anything. I just know it. So hey, will we have to get used to calling you Threnody now when we're out?"

"Why not– it's a fair enough name. I doubt I'll be able to go by my real name for a long time."

Sideswipe laughed. "With all the fuss Prime's kicking up? Yeah, it'll take a while for the frenzy to die down."

Up ahead, Sunstreaker scoffed. "Sounds about right." He had two cans of paint in his servos. "Which silver, Threnody?"

Prowl shook his helm. "I don't think I'm really in the place to choose."

The taller mech rolled his optics. "Just choose."

"Tt, fine. That one." Prowl pointed his chin at the one in Sunstreaker's left servo, a lighter silver than the other.

"That's good."

The purchase of the paints didn't take long, though Sunstreaker stressed a little in order to get the specific blue he wanted. The drive back to the ship was brief and lacking in excitement, but for the time Sideswipe nearly sparked a street race with another speedster. Sunstreaker talked him down, and they let the other mech screech off in a flurry of dust.

"Since we are essentially saving you from a life of imprisonment by Prime, I'm going to take some creative liberty with your paintjob," Sunstreaker said once they'd gone through the process of removing Prowl's current layers of paint, leaving the doorwinger a plain, slate grey.

Prowl sat down on the floor of the second room in the ship –the twins had told him to make himself at home in it, though Prowl wasn't quite sure how– and watched the warrior set out the paints. "That would probably be best. I don't have any idea what I would want, anyway; I've had pretty much the same paintjob since I was first constructed."

Sunstreaker snorted. "Well then you're definitely due for something new." He opened the can of blue paint. "The paint dries pretty quick, so it won't take as long as it would otherwise. I'll start on your chestplates, yeah?"

A groon into Sunstreaker's beginning the base coat, Prowl spoke. "Why did you agree so quickly?"

"Huh?" The yellow mech paused, frowning in confusion, brush poised over Prowl's back as the smaller bot lay on his front, arms crossed. "Agree to what?"

"To the deal. To protect me. Why did you and Sideswipe agree so easily?" Prowl stared at the far wall, feeling the stroke of Sunstreaker's brush begin again before the paint could drip.

"Oh." Sunstreaker stared down at the bot before him. "Well, like Sides said, free labor isn't easy to get."

"But it's _not_ free. The contract stated that you would both die before allowing me to be taken."

Sunstreaker scoffed. "Yeah, well, we don't do things in half measures."

"It still doesn't make sense."

"Maybe we're just that set in our moral code."

Prowl shook his helm faintly. "That can't be it."

"Well slag, Prowl, what do you wanna hear?! That we actually hate you and we're just planning to use you 'til you're spent?"

"Maybe," Prowl whispered, spark tightening in his chest.

"...Well we aren't." Sunstreaker, with a little effort, loosened his to-tight grip on the brush handle. "You've been an aft to us before –hell you've been an aft to literally everyone you've ever _met_ – but we won't turn away a mech who comes to us when he's got no where else to go. You could have gone to anyone, Prowl, anywhere. You may have been beaten, but you still had contacts and probably a slag ton of blackmail. Jazz probably woulda helped smuggle you off planet. Arcee might have done the same, if nothing else than to get rid of you. But instead of going to them, you come to us as your last resort. And Sides and I weren't gonna turn you away. Not when you trusted that there was at least a chance we would protect you."

"Plus, you just looked so sad. It's that uprooted, thoroughly-beaten puppy look that got me, personally."

Prowl twisted his helm to look at Sideswipe, who leaned against the doorway with a pseudo grin on his face. "Right..."

Sideswipe signed, grin dropping. "Look Prowl, we don't hate you– never have. Sure we've disliked and despised you, but you've saved our afts more times than we can count. I know that you're a paranoid slagger who thinks that everyone's secretly against him– that the war isn't over and won't ever be--"

"It's _not_!" Probably not the best time for such a tell-tale outburst, but Prowl's processor was spinning with confusion and bewilderment, and his spark ached with a strange sort of fear. "The war is _never_ over! It nearly took out our _planet_ , nearly _destroyed_ our society. The expanse of the battlefield spanned _galaxies_ , and destroyed _dozens_ of planets. While we're all alive it'll _never_ be over; Decepticons will hate Autobots and Autobots will hate Decepticons and it'll stay that way until we're all _dead_!" Vaguely Prowl realized that Sunstreaker was no longer painting– he'd set the brush on the can. "Optimus is a fool to think that peace will be possible! He _insists_ that the war is over– _everyone_ does! Everyone tells me I'm _mad_ , I'm _crazy_ for thinking like I do; for putting aside morality for the sake of the greater good, for being able to make all those hard decisions." Prowl had drawn his legs up under himself when he felt the tightening of his throat. Forehead pressed to the ground, Prowl tucked his elbows to his sides, servos pressed to his cheeks, and pulled his doorwings in. "But Optimus would sooner absolve _Megatron_ of his crimes then let _me_ do what needs to be done. But I'm _right_! It's _true_! I'm _right_!" Prowl's throat had constricted, forcing his voice to a humiliating, choked whisper. "I'm right..."

The silence weighed heavy on Prowl's audials, and he covered them. He didn't _understand_. He thought he had, when Optimus Maximus had come into being, and Optimus, Ironhide, Mirage, and Jazz had forced him into seeing the world the way they did. But he _didn't_ understand. He didn't _get_ it. He didn't get why the way he'd lived and worked for so long was suddenly wrong to them, why he was suddenly the bad guy. He didn't get why they all betrayed him.

"Hey..." A soft, soothing voice reached Prowl's audials, the low tone squeezing under the servos that muffled his hearing. "Can I lie down next to you?"

Prowl peeked out to see Sideswipe's servo as he knelt a couple feet away. "Yes?"

  
Metal shifted against metal as Sideswipe stretched out on his side. Prowl could see his face. The mech was looking somewhere over Prowl's helm, expression neutral.

"Can I touch you?"

An inexplicable fear struck a bolt through Prowl's spark, and he tensed. "No."

"Okay, that's fine." Sideswipe shifted, gesturing beyond Prowl's narrow field of vision. "It okay if Sunny lies down with us too?"

"Yes."

On Prowl's other side came the faint sound of pistons hissing and gears clicking. Prowl peeked out that way to see Sunstreaker lie back with his digits laced behind his helm, staring at the ceiling. His expression was comfortingly blank.

Prowl stared with unfocused optics at the floor a couple centimeters away. His emotions were in turmoil; a tumultuous mix of fear and anxiety and loss. Prowl's processor just wouldn't work. He couldn't calm down, couldn't bottle it. Everything spilled out, like engex from a shattered glass. Tears fell from his optics, plopping down onto the ground. His ventilations hitched, and Prowl gasped, doorwings shaking. His gasps soon turned to full out sobs, wet and thick. Prowl sucked in a breath and let out a silent scream, wings flaring as every piston seized.

The whole episode lasted far too long for comfort. By the time he'd cried himself out, Prowl felt utterly stripped of both his dignity and energy.

"You good?"

Prowl glanced at Sideswipe. "Sure." He sat up, glaring at the pool of tears that had formed on the floor. "I'm not even half painted."

"Yeah, not a good look on you." Sideswipe hopped to his pedes, and Sunstreaker moved towards the forgotten cans of paint. Neither mech seemed about to question Prowl's sudden... breakdown? Anxiety attack? Panic attack? He couldn't really be sure what that was. But he was thankful that the twins weren't going to try and talk about it.

"I'm gonna go check the channels, see if there're any jobs. Sunny, carry on. Prowl, have fun." With a parting set of finger-guns, Sideswipe left.

Sunstreaker shook his helm. "He's awkward. Don't mind him. Come on and lie down flat– I'm not gonna leave you looking like this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm venting my emotional experiences through Prowl yet?
> 
> Okay so yeah the universe I created is weird. Also, Threnody was apparently the name of a former Wrecker commander, but I love the word so much and it was on my names list way before I found out about that long-dead Wrecker dude.
> 
> There will only be one more chapter, most likely. I suck at plot– all my best works are oneshots. This was actually meant to be one, but I split it up just because. Also because I'm not quite sure how to end it. The ending most likely won't have a satisfying romantic finish, though, because I as a person who's never had a real boyfriend have no idea how people get into relationships and thus I can't write people getting into relationships.
> 
> I'll probably update once I get that ending, so long as I don't forget to. And please, point out my errors and give me tips.


	2. Chapter 2

"This that new partner you mentioned? You didn't tell me he was so beautiful."

Prowl frowned, crossing his arms. He glanced down at himself for a nanoklik. The blue _did_ look very nice, and the silver detailing that laced over his plating was something of a work of art. Prowl had initially argued against such intricate designs, but Sunstreaker had assumed the privilege of the artist and eventually got what he wanted. The occasional admiring looks cast Prowl's way now were certainly nothing he'd ever experienced.

It had been three quartex since Prowl ran from Prime. His image still bore a WANTED mark, while the bounty sat at a comfortable three hundred thousand credits. Work with the twins was interesting; a mixture of bounty hunting and smuggling/transport of illegal goods, with the occasional grab-and-hack. In all, while Prowl could not say that he felt truly fulfilled doing what he was, he at least could say the company was enjoyable.

"Yeah, this is him. His name's Threnody." Sideswipe smirked at the mech for whom they were currently transporting blackmarket materials. "Take a good look, because he won't let you into his berth."

Sunstreaker heaved a put upon sigh. "Have your mechs finished up yet, Barite?"

The white mech checked his comm. "Not yet." He looked again at Prowl. "So how did you get into business with these mechs? Fine bot like you, you look like you'd be working as a secretary for some noble."

"I met them during the Great War." Prowl ignored the latter comment, despite his desire to retort.

Barite laughed. "Really? What were you, the unit's pleasure-mech?"

Prowl tensed, doorwings flaring. Sunstreaker growled, and Sideswipe's smirk turned a little more dangerous.

"Better watch how you talk about him, Barite. He's one of us, and you know Sunny 'n I don't tolerate insults about each other." Sideswipe leaned forward, optics flashing.

"Right, right, sorry 'bout that." Barite crumpled, as any good, self-respecting, self-preserving blackmarket dealer would. "Didn't mean any offense, Threnody."

"Sure." Prowl turned his gaze from the white mech dismissively, looking instead to Sunstreaker. "Where are we taking these, again?"

The yellow mech frowned in thought. "Autobots, I think. Or rather, the old SpecOps unit."

Prowl paused, and took a step back. The twins followed, their broad shoulders a wall between their conversation and the mech behind them. "SpecOps? As in Jazz?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm guessing. Not really our place to know why, of course, just to transport, but I'm thinking it has something to do with the rising tensions between Starscream and Optimus." Sideswipe settled his weight onto one hip. "You worried about Jazz or someone else recognizing you?"

Silver-patterned doorwings fluttered. "Somewhat, yes."

"Don't worry," Sunstreaker said. "You look nothing like you used to. So long as you keep your 'Master Strategist' mask off, we'll be fine. Jazz and Mirage would recognize you in a sparkbeat if you went cold because you got nervous."

Prowl sneered slightly. "I'll do my best."

"Well hey," Sideswipe began, placing a servo on Prowl's shoulder, "if you really wanna fool them, just pretend you're wildly attracted to us." Prowl snorted, shrugging Sideswipe's servo off. "Or you could, you know, express your emotions a little more freely, that would probably work."

"Sure, I'll do that." Prowl shook his helm, rolling his optics. "Go check if Barite's mechs have finished up."

  
Jazz couldn't suppress his grin when two very familiar mechs stepped out of the ship carrying the stuff he'd ordered.

"Hey boys!" He gave a wave, which Sideswipe returned enthusiastically. The red mech rushed forward to clasp arms with the saboteur.

"How've you been, Jazz?" Sideswipe asked, while Sunstreaker directed Smokescreen and Mirage to the hold.

"I've been good, mech, how 'bout you two?" Jazz cast a wink and a grin towards the yellow twin, who replied with a fleeting smile.

"We've been doing good, thanks. Jobs aren't too hard to come by, and credits are plentiful. 'S been going good."

Jazz nodded, taking a step back, wide grin still in place. "Sounds like a nice life, Sides."

Sideswipe laughed, shrugging. "Naw it's okay. Company's good, though. Sunny 'n Threnody make for enough variety."

"Threnody? That the name of the new mech you two've been running around with? I heard he used to be an Autobot."

"Yeah. He's still inside, showing Smokey and Mirage which boxes to grab, probably. Oh hey, there he is." Sideswipe lifted a servo to wave the mech who had stepped from the ship over.

The bot was a fairly beautiful shade of blue, but it was the silver detailing that really caught the optic. Delicate swirls and loops twined over his plating, scrolling down his legs and across his chest and doorwings. Jazz's optics narrowed behind his visor at the sight of the doorwings. Every time he saw a set his mind flicked to Prowl. Pit even the sight of Smokescreen's wings brought the black and white mech to the forefront of Jazz's processor. But this wasn't the time to dwell on his ex-comrade. Still, the frametype wasn't too common. And Jazz thought himself a good enough agent to know all the doorwingers that became Autobots by name, if not by face. Threnody wasn't one of those names.

Putting aside his suspicions, Jazz stuck out his servo. "Hey there, I'm Jazz."

A dark blue servo clasped his briefly. "Threnody, though I'm guessing you knew that." Threnody's optics were guarded– he clearly knew who Jazz was. Who didn't?

Jazz winked. "Yeah, Sides told me. Didn't tell me you were pretty, though. Sunstreaker's work, I'm guessing."

Threnody blinked. "Yes... That's the second time I've heard that in the past decaorn. Last time was Barite, who I'm sure you know."

The saboteur winced. "Mm, sorry for bringing up that memory. I know what that mech can be like."

"Right." Threnody's gaze dropped for a nanoklik, before he looked up at Sunstreaker. "Mirage confirmed the contents. They're bringing the goods out. There isn't much, they'll be done within a breem or two." He glanced back at Jazz. "I hope you're not the type who won't pay just because you're an old friend."

"Ha! Naw, I'm not that kind o' mech." Jazz held out a credit chip to Sideswipe. "There's your pay. Don't suppose you three'd like to hang around for a little? We can grab a drink and commiserate over our lives."

The twins glanced at one another. Then they both looked at Threnody. Jazz saw a flare of apprehension in the blue mech's optics before he nodded, vents hissing with a faint sigh, mouth turning down in a pinched frown.

"So what's his deal?– Threnody, I mean." Jazz turned to Sideswipe once Sunstreaker and Threnody had gone back into the ship to help Mirage and Smokescreen.

"His deal?"

Jazz shrugged. "He's nervous, timid. Anxious. And it ain't just 'cause of me, it's everything. He's a fraggin' bundle of overloaded sensors." Jazz was good at reading mecha, and what he read off Threnody was fear– not unlike how Red Alert got whenever he had a paranoid episode.

Sideswipe frowned. "Yeah, he's got some issues. Not really sure what they are, but Sunny 'n I do our best to keep him grounded."

"You two 'facing him?"

"No. He's gorgeous, for sure, but like you said, he's a bundle of sensors." The red mech sighed. "I don't know if he trusts us enough for that."

"Damn. Bagged yourself a real keeper, didn't you?"

"Heh, yeah..."

By the time Jazz, the twins, and Threnody were two cubes in at the bar, Jazz was nearly convinced that Threnody was in fact Prowl. Their sense of humor was similar– dry, sardonic, and sarcastic. Merely the way Threnody moved was reminiscent of the tactician; the flick of his doorwings, the way he walked, the way he held his glass of engex. He was different too, however. More open. Sure he never truly loosened up since Jazz was present, but he laughed at Sideswipe's jokes and stole a few sips from Sunstreaker's glass with a daring smirk. That smirk, that was definitely Prowl's. The smirk that said 'I just won over you'. Less cold, though. More warm, amused. Affectionate.

The city was still busy despite the late hour when Jazz declared that he'd walk the trio to their ship before departing for his own residence. Sideswipe laughed and joked, "What are we, your three-way date? Do we all get a kiss when we get there?"

Jazz took the opportunity to watch the blue doorwinger a little closer as they walked. The mech kept his face turned down slightly, though he never ran into anything. He'd look up and laugh whenever the conversation produced some particularly witty remark from either of the twins. At one point he cuffed Sideswipe over the helm for a light insult, and the red mech retaliated by pinching a doorwing, once he'd wiped the look of shock from his face.

"So hey," Jazz began when they finally reached the ship, looking at Threnody from the other side of Sunstreaker's broad shoulders. "How come you ran to the twins instead of me, Prowler?"

The naked fear that flooded Threnody's –Prowl's– optics was more than a little surprising. Prowl took a step back, doorwings fluttering wildly. "What do you want?" Prowl said stiffly as he straightened, fists clenching. He hadn't managed to hide his fear. Jazz could just see the way that both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker shifted into subtle combat-ready positions.

Jazz quickly lifted his hands placatingly. "Woah, hey, calm down. It's a simple enough question." Jazz was a little bothered by Prowl's lack of composure, however. Whenever he'd been caught before, Prowl had always kept wearing that cold, self-confident expression. Something had happened to Prowl since Jazz last saw him– since he and the others had separated from Optimus Maximus and given Prowl over to the authorities.

Prowl stared at Jazz for a few long moments. "Because you would have given me back to Optimus."

"What? Where'd you get _that_ idea." The saboteur shook his helm. "I wouldn't do that to you. Primus, all these vorns and you start doubting me _now_?" Anger replaced Prowl's fear, but he didn't speak. Jazz frowned. "Just say it, Prowl."

"You think I'm wrong."

"About what?"

"Everything. You think I'm wrong about the war, about how I see the world. You think I'm worse than Megatron, because at least _he_ has managed to change his ways."

Jazz couldn't deny that he had thought all those things during the righteous anger brought on by combining into Optimus Maximus against his will. That Prowl had detected those thoughts, even during their four-on-one internal battle, was slightly disturbing.

"Don't mean I'm not still your friend, Prowler." Sure, they'd never really been _true_ friends, but there had been a large measure of necessary trust and dependence in their relationship. Doubt flickered in Prowl's optics, and Jazz skipped to his first question. "So why the twins, then, and not me?"

Prowl's gaze flicked to the twins, who remained silent, looking at him once before setting their optics again on Jazz.

"Because if they wouldn't take me in, they would at least have killed me if I had asked it of them."

The twins exchanged unreadable looks.

Something like grief washed through Jazz's spark. "Were you that hurt?"

Prowl sputtered, optics blazing with fury. " _That hurt_?! I'd just been betrayed by mecha I'd at least _slightly_ trusted. Optimus betrayed me twice over, beat me to a _pulp_ , and even then _refused_ to kill me. I had nothing to live for; no cause to uphold – _Optimus_ stole _that_ – and no mech to follow. Even living as I am, I'm not sure that there is anything of worth in this life for me. Only selfishness and cowardice keep me from flinging myself off the nearest building." Throughout his brief monologue, the fire faded from Prowl's voice until he was left sounding tired, doorwings and shoulders sagging.

Depression? Jazz wondered. Maybe anxiety too, but Jazz was less an expert on that disorder. Either way, Prowl wasn't quite right in the helm. Jazz may disagree with Prowl and his methods, but the mech was a friend. Jazz still remembered being combined, too. How it felt. The time was brief, but enough to leave a lasting impression. Prowl was part of him, in an almost familial way.

"I won't tell Optimus about you. I'm good at avoidance, but I'll have tell him the truth if he asks me directly. If it comes to that, Prowler, I'll protect you." Jazz reached out to touch Prowl's shoulder. He could still feel it, that faint, thread thin connection between them. Prowl sighed and reached out his own servo to pull Jazz close, pressing their foreheads together. For a fleeting moment Jazz felt _Prowl_ , as he had felt him in Optimus Maximus. Forced together. A necessary trust, necessary love. Jazz hadn't loved anything for vorns, but he could relate it to the love he'd felt for his family, ages and ages ago.

When Prowl pulled away there were tears on his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Prowler." Jazz pressed a kiss to the center of the doorwinger's chevron. "Don't forget, I trust you." A statement far heavier than a declaration of love in the world they lived in.

"I trust you too, Jazz."

Jazz broke away from his gestaltmate, looking at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, both of whom stared back stonily. "You take care of him, boys. Can't go losing another great mind because the spark thought it broke."

With that, Jazz left.

  
Prowl sat in one of the bucket-seats of the cockpit, wedged in sideways with his legs against his chest. The lights were off, leaving him in darkness, but for the shine of Cybertron and the stars from through the window.

"What are you thinking?" Dark forearms braced against the top of the chair, and Prowl glanced sideways to see a yellow chestplate.

Prowl pondered the question for a long moment. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? In the processor, I mean." Prowl thought something was wrong. He was feeling unusually anxious one moment, and the next he was drowning in self-hatred. He'd feel incredibly jittery, tense, twitching at any loud sound or harsh movement. Then he'd feel slow and drowsy, staring about apathetically, too fatigued to really think.

"I think that you're afraid of asking for help, whether something is actually wrong or not."

Prowl chuckled ruefully. "True enough."

Sunstreaker lowered his helm to knock it lightly against Prowl's. "Do you want anything, Prowl? Want, not need. Warm energon, a hug, for me to leave you alone."

Despite not being as open as Sideswipe, Sunstreaker was equally as tactile. Both twins were accustomed to touching, feeling. Prowl had never really enjoyed being touched by anyone. But he'd always wanted it, knew that he wanted someone. Just not those mecha. He wanted to curl up beside someone bigger than himself, someone who was _right_ , and just feel them– their warmth, their sparkbeat. With his recent emotional instability, Prowl had found that lingering on this longing would bring him to tears.

It was a long time before Prowl finally replied, voice small. "Hug?"

"That's good." Sunstreaker rounded the chair, kneeling down by Prowl's elbow. "You gonna stay like that? Cause it's hard to hug a tiny ball."

Prowl, though unwilling to reply aloud, unfurled, sliding from the seat and into the arms that Sunstreaker clasped about him. It was everything he'd ever dreamed of, and yet nothing like it at all. Prowl had been hugged before, but he'd only ever tolerated those, and he'd certainly hadn't reciprocated. Now, though, he wrapped his arms about Sunstreaker's abdomen and squeezed. Sunstreaker's hold tightened in response, and Prowl felt every piston relax. This, this was good. Prowl turned his helm to press his audial against Sunstreaker's chest, just barely able to hear the pulse of his spark.

As the klik stretched on Prowl felt his back begin to ache from the strain of leaning forward. He shifted, and Sunstreaker's arms loosened. But Prowl only clambered onto his lap, sitting sideways even as he twisted his upper body to press against the warrior's chest. His servos were clasped between their bodies, and Prowl lay his helm on Sunstreaker's shoulder. The mech said nothing, only wrapped his arms once again about Prowl's frame.

"Hey." It was Sideswipe, crouching down beside them. "You know, we don't expect you to stop feeling and thinking the way you do just because Sunny 'n I are here." Prowl watched him silently. "Just remember that we're here for you, always. We're here to make sure that nothing takes you, and that includes whatever's happening in your helm."

"I'm not..." Prowl couldn't think of anything to finish the sentence.

"Doesn't matter what you are or aren't. You're ours to protect." Sideswipe lifted a servo to touch and paused, a question in his optics. Prowl blinked a couple times and nodded. The servo continued its journey and touched Prowl's helm, running from his chevron to his cheek.

Prowl let out a heavy sigh, leaning into the touch slightly. "I believe you."

Sideswipe smiled, his servo slipping behind Prowl's neck and pulling the dark helm close to tap his forehead against the Prowl's. "Always a good thing."

"We hope that one orn, maybe, you'll trust us, too." Sunstreaker's voice was a low murmur, lips pressed against the crown of the doorwinger's helm.

"I hope so too." As much as Prowl would have loved to remain longer in the golden twin's arms, he could feel his plating begin to prickle with familiar discomfort. Shifting, Prowl wondered how to convey his growing discomfort without offending Sunstreaker.

"Feel like recharging? It's been a long day, and I'm sure we should sleep off the overcharge from drinking." Sideswipe pinched Prowl's chevron, smirking when the doorwinger shook his helm roughly to dispel the touch.

Sunstreaker tugged the smaller mech to his pedes, the two of them flaring their plating to settle it. Prowl turned away briskly, making his way down the short path to his room. The twins followed, pausing before their own door.

The doorwinger glanced up, a fleeting thought making him smile slightly. "No goodnight kiss?" It was half a joke, half serious. Prowl had always been good at self-denial, but even he couldn't refute the evidence of his enjoying the twins' touch. Yes, all things considered, it was quite likely Prowl had feelings for the twins.

"But where do you want the kiss, eh?" Sideswipe grinned.

"Anywhere."

The red twin laughed and leaned down to kiss Prowl's brow, before pressing his lips to Prowl's for a brief moment. "There you go."

Prowl's smile widened, and he turned to Sunstreaker expectantly, optics glittering with amusement. Sunstreaker huffed, smiling, and gave Prowl a chaste kiss. The doorwinger's cheeks flushed a faint blue, shy pleasure making his wings flutter.

"See you in the morning, yeah?" Sunstreaker turned away and pushed open the door to his room. Sideswipe followed with one last glancing touch to Prowl's shoulder.

Prowl didn't hover in the hall, slipping quickly into the quiet darkness of his room. Stretching out on the berth, Prowl lay on his front, doorwings waving in the air. This orn had been... hectic. But fun, too, intermittently. It was good to see Jazz again, and his outburst had been quite cathartic.

In all, Prowl felt better than he'd felt in a while, at least concerning Jazz and Optimus Maximus. One step closer to getting better from... whatever this was.

With his two kisses lingering on his lips, Prowl slipped into a tranquil recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A better ending than I thought I'd manage to wrangle. Not the best, because I suck at endings, but hey, here we have it.  
> May or may not one day continue this, but I probably won't; I can't do ongoing plots. At all.  
> Please tell of any errors or possible corrections to grammar and stuff.


End file.
